


Feels Like I Won Twice Today

by PoorWendy



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drunk Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 13:27:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15244398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoorWendy/pseuds/PoorWendy
Summary: Peter’sdrunk.It’s the first time in a while he’s let himself get properly drunk. Definitely the first time since they all teamed up, Revengers and Guardians alike. Battle, it seems, has brought out the camaraderie in all of them.No, not battle.Victory.





	Feels Like I Won Twice Today

**Author's Note:**

> For ThorQuill Week, Day 2: Victory.
> 
> Let's forget about IW and imagine the Guardians encountered the Asgardian evacuees post-Ragnarok

Peter’s _drunk_.

It’s the first time in a while he’s let himself get properly drunk. Definitely the first time since they all teamed up, Revengers and Guardians alike. Peter feels like he can kind of imagine what it must have been like on Asgard, in some vast hall, during some big feast. Peter supposes that the only real difference is the setting. Although they've transformed the massive ship's cavernous bridge into a passable, semi-extravagant hall. There’s too many Asgardians on board to count, and in their haste to evacuate, a great many of them took the time to gather their priceless belongings. Like mead.

Like, _so_ much mead.

And Peter actually suspects somebody on board is brewing it somewhere because they never seem to run out.

And there’s a couple flasks of this and that being passed around. Peter doesn’t even _know_ where Valkyrie’s storing all the booze she’s been collecting from around the galaxy. She usually keeps it to herself, but tonight, even _she’s_ sharing. Battle, it seems, has brought out the camaraderie in all of them.

No, not battle. _Victory_.

They faced a bona fide army today, a real threat, and frankly, they _crushed_ it, in the air and on the field. And, boy, can Asgardians celebrate.

So, yeah. Peter’s pretty drunk. And he’s been putting off breaking the seal, so to speak, but it’s really getting to be that time. He’s about to get up from the table (one of the many, many tables) when he feels a strong hand clap down too hard on his shoulder.

“Enjoying yourself, Quill?” Thor asks, planting himself on the bench beside Peter.

Peter laughs, tries not to wince at the slight sting Thor’s hand left on his shoulder. Although Thor’s hand is still there. “Yeah, I am. Probably too much,” he says, swigging the rest of his ale (his _own_ ale, not the Asgardian stuff—he doesn’t have a death wish) from the bottle in front of him.

Thor grins wide, face flushed. “It’s the night for it,” he replies, and puts his arm fully around Peter’s shoulders. “We fought well today. _You_ fought well today. You _fly_ very well.” He’s speaking quickly, loudly. Peter almost doesn’t catch what’s so strange about it, but then he smells it on Thor’s breath.

“You’re drunk,” Peter observes, surprised even as he’s saying it. He’s never seen Thor drunk. He wasn’t sure Thor could even get drunk.

Thor laughs, loud, deep. “Like I said,” Thor begins, swigs from his own cup, “it’s the night for it.” He wipes his mouth with his forearm. God, his arms are huge. All of him is huge. Good lord. Peter’s drunk. And he really has to pee. And Thor’s arm is heavy around him still, and his hand is squeezing Peter’s shoulder, and Peter likes the way it feels, this unfamiliar proximity to Thor, and it’s making him feel like he’d almost sit and piss himself before removing himself.

But he’s not piss-in-his-pants drunk. Though he is drunk enough to lean in a little too close to Thor to speak into his ear. “I gotta go—,” he starts.

“Running off?” Thor asks, interrupting him, still smiling. “After I came all this way to sit by you?”

Peter swallows. He thinks he likes drunk Thor. “Bathroom,” he clarifies. “I’ll be back.”

Thor leans in to speak into Peter’s ear this time. “You’d better be,” he says, forehead pressed into Peter’s hair.

Thor doesn’t lean back or move his arm or stop smiling, so Peter has to gather all the damn strength he has to rise from the table. “I’ll be back,” Peter says again. Thor finally lets him go and Peter wanders out of the hall, away from the din of the massive crowd, and finds his way to the bathroom.

He pees, and washes his hands, and as he wipes them dry on his pants, he stares at his reflection, having some internal discussion with himself. He isn’t quite sure what he’s trying to convince himself of; whether Thor’s coming on to him, or whether he isn’t. Although, he’s smiling at himself, and he’s sort of blushing. Although that could just be all the ale.

But he thinks about Thor’s breath on his ear and keeps on blushing.

He doesn’t think it’s just the ale.

He pushes himself away from the sink, eager to make good on his word and get back to Thor. Eager to figure out what’s going to happen next.

As it turns out, he doesn’t have any more time to wonder, because when he leaves the bathroom, Thor’s there, cup in hand. Waiting for him.

Thor closes in on Peter. He doesn’t even touch him, but Peter finds himself stumbling back against the wall. And then Thor’s got a hand on the wall beside Peter’s head, and he’s leaning close, just like he was in the hall. But in the hall, they had to lean in close just to hear each other. That’s not the case out here. And Thor’s still leaning in close.

Peter wonders for a second if he should just kiss him. He kind of feels like he could do it, and Thor wouldn’t stop him. He’s pretty sure Thor wants to.

“I got impatient,” Thor says.

Peter swallows, stares Thor in the eye, tries to be cool. He does not feel _at all_ cool. “Wasn’t gone that long,” he points out.

Thor grins. “Felt like too long,” he says. “Plus it just made more sense to come find you out here.”

Peter takes a shallow breath. “Why’s that?”

“Because now I’ve already got you alone.”

Peter smirks. Thor wanting him alone. Thor _wanting him_. It’s enough to make him weak in his knees, but it’s also a heady enough brew to inflate his ego. He puffs his chest out, just a little, and dares to reach forward, puts a fingertip to Thor’s chest, drags it down, down, _down_ , following it with his eyes. Then he glances up to see Thor’s reaction. He’s still smiling, even if it’s a little darker. Peter looks back down and hooks his finger into the waistband of Thor’s pants. “Now what would you need me alone for?”

He tugs at Thor’s waistband. Barely. Even if Thor weren’t a god, it wouldn’t be enough to budge him an inch unless Thor gave in to it.

Thor gives in to it.

“Seems like you’ve got a pretty good idea,” Thor says, lets Peter pull him closer. He takes his hand off the wall and brings it down to Peter’s neck. “Want you,” he says softly. Peter can’t help closing his eyes at that, processing, savoring. Then Thor’s leaning in against his ear again. “Been wanting you,” he goes on, all hot breath.

“Jesus,” Peter peter sighs, rolls his head back, feels Thor’s lips ghosting against his neck, feels Thor’s chest press against his own. And Peter’s body seems to wake up, suddenly alert, filled with want. He puts one hand on Thor’s side, against his ribs. Like, probably. There are probably ribs under all that muscle somewhere. The other hand wanders around Thor’s back, tries to pull him closer. And Thor lets him, and Peter feels Thor’s tongue against his neck, and he really needs _more_.

He opens his eyes and lowers his chin, wants to find Thor’s mouth with his own, but then he hears a faint splash on the floor. They pull away from each other enough to look down, and Thor chuckles a little when he sees he’s spilled his mead. “Oops,” he offers, thumb rubbing against Peter’s neck.

“Finish that,” Peter says, “or put it down. Something. Get your hands on me.”

Thor smiles, leans in again, plays at Peter’s earlobe with his lips before he murmurs, “Let’s go somewhere, then.”

Peter nods, his cock twitches. What an excellent idea. “My jacket’s back at the table still.”

“Just leave it,” Thor says.

“My Zune is in there,” Peter argues.

Thor laughs. “Fine. We’ll go in, and I’ll get rid of my cup, and you’ll get your jacket, and then we’re going to my room. How’s that for a plan?”

“That’s…” Peter trails off, takes a deep breath, tries to get a fucking grip on himself. “That’s a really good plan.”

Peter’s about to make moves when Thor presses him hard against the wall one more time, catching him off-guard, stoppering the slight sound of surprise that escapes Peter’s mouth with his own.

It’s a clumsy, drunk, sudden kiss. Peter’s lip catches painfully between their teeth and Thor’s tongue is wet and thick and it's all so drenched in their _wanting_ that Peter might very well have fallen over if Thor didn’t have him pinned against the wall. Thor pulls away nearly as suddenly, Peter’s bottom lip between his teeth, and for a moment the look on Thor’s face isn’t jovial and blushing anymore, it’s determined. Driven.

“Let’s go,” Thor says, like he’s been waiting around for Peter, like Peter had anywhere to go until just now.

Peter’s head is swimming, and part of him is perfectly willing to let Thor call all the shots, but some other part of him doesn’t want him to have the last word. No, not the last word. The last move. So he reaches down between Thor’s legs, finding the shape of his cock, groping just until he feels it stiffen. Then he lets go, turns, and struts back toward the hall.

He swears he can feel Thor following close behind as he enters the hall, but maybe he’s just imagining that. He doesn’t look back. He just weaves through the many tables until he reaches the seat he’d taken earlier, collects his jacket (and makes sure his Zune is still snug inside the pocket), and turns right back around.

He scans the room as he makes his way for the exit again, sees Thor chugging the remains of his mead over at a table with Bruce and Valkyrie. Loki is sitting there as well, but he’s chatting with some Asgardians that Peter hasn’t properly met. Thor puts his empty cup down on the table and says something to the lot of them. Bruce and Valkyrie don’t pay much mind, but Loki looks Thor’s way and raises an eyebrow. Thor looks to Peter as he passes their table, smiles, and excuses himself. Peter just keeps walking, though he spares another glance toward Loki, who returns his gaze, and offers a smug, knowing grin.

Peter probably blushes, but he heads on right out the door, and as the quiet surrounds him again, he can hear Thor’s footsteps behind him. They get closer and closer until Thor overtakes him, grabbing Peter’s hand and pulling him along.

Once they’re inside Thor’s quarters, Thor slams the door shut behind them and puts Peter up against it. He kisses Peter again, and it’s just a better fit this time. Peter’s not as surprised by it, and he opens up, lets Thor’s tongue inside, even lets himself suck on it wantonly. He’s been keeping his cool, but that’s wearing thin. He’s fucking desperate now, and his cock’s only been getting harder since Thor pressed against him the first time.

Thor pulls at the hem of Peter’s shirt, pushes his fingers underneath and runs them along Peter’s stomach. It’s unbelievable. All of this is unbelievable, but Peter tries not to stop and think about that too much. He just concentrates on the feeling of Thor’s fingers against his skin, the low sound in Thor’s throat as they kiss. Then Thor pulls back an inch, gasping, says, “Take this off.” Then he’s kissing along Peter’s jawline.

“I can’t—” he stutters when Thor pushes his hands farther up Peter’s shirt. “I can’t exactly do that when you’re— _ngh_ —pressed against me like this.”

Thor laughs against Peter’s skin. “Fair enough,” he allows, and backs away, pulls Peter by the wrists over to his bed, sits him down, helps him peel his shirt off. He puts his hands on Peter’s shoulders and goes to climb on top of Peter’s lap, but Peter puts out a hand to stop him.

“Uh-uh,” he protests. “Yours too.” Thor smiles again. Drunk bastard can’t stop smiling. And it’s doing something wild to Peter’s heart (and Peter’s cock), how happy Thor is, how eager, how joyful. “C’mon,” Peter goes on, when Thor isn’t moving quickly enough. “I wanna feel more of your skin.”

Thor nods. “Alright,” he says, and then, “alright,” again, as he fumbles with the leather straps of his armor, the same armor he got on the lost planet. He’s gotten a little attached. Peter certainly has no issue with it, not with the way it always has Thor’s giant arms on display. But he finds he likes it a lot better as it falls to the bedroom floor, and Peter gets a good look at a _lot_ more of Thor.

“How…” Peter starts, staring open-mouthed, holding out a hand again to keep Thor an arm’s length away. Far enough away that he can take it all in just a little longer. “How are you even real? Like… Jesus Christ, look at you…”

Thor flexes. Peter’s sure of it. “So do you just want to look at me? Or…”

Peter laughs, snaps out of it enough to move back on the bed, stammers out, “No, no. Get over here.”

Thor does. He gets up on the bed and straddles Peter’s lap and takes Peter’s face in both hands and kisses him, deep, and it’s so _sweet_ Peter can hardly stand it. He lets Thor push him back until he’s lying down, and then all at once Thor’s mouth is on his chest, and Thor’s hands are at his fly, and Peter rests his hands behind Thor’s head, rubbing circles into his scalp gratefully.

Thor kisses over Peter’s chest, licks over one of his nipples, takes it between his teeth. “ _Oh_ ,” Peter sighs, drunk, head full of stars. “Oh, fuck, that feels good.”

Thor moans against his chest, kisses down to his belly, licks past his navel and to the waistband of his underwear. His hands rush up to Peter’s hips, grabbing at his pants, tugging lightly at first, then insistently. He glances up at Peter with dark, mismatched eyes. “Lift your hips,” he says, urgent, hungry.

Peter nods and obeys. Then Thor’s pulling Peter’s pants and underwear down at once past his ass, halfway down his hips. Peter’s cock is hard and eager and Peter thinks he could just _die_ if he doesn’t feel Thor’s fingers on it.

And then he _does_ feel Thor’s fingers on it, and this is good. This is _better_ than good. It’s right, it’s _exceptional_ , Peter would swear it was _perfect_ until he feels Thor’s tongue lick a long stripe up his cock.

“Oh fuck,” Peter swears again, because what else can he say? Thor wraps his lips around Peter’s cock and swallows him down quickly, _too_ quickly, Jesus, how long does he expect Peter to last? “Jesus Christ,” Peter says, as Thor takes him into his throat, humming and sending vibrations buzzing through him. “ _Fuck_ , it’s so good.”

Thor swallows him a few more times before pulling off. “What do you want to do, Quill?” he asks, voice thick, rasping.

Peter shivers. “I mean,” he starts, uncoolly, “this is great.”

Thor grins. “I can keep going,” he says, “I just didn’t know if you wanted to come like this or… Something else.”

Peter raises an eyebrow. “Did you have something else in mind?”

“Well,” Thor begins, stroking Peter’s cock slowly, “you could fuck me, if you wanted.”

“Holy shit,” Peter breathes out, and as much as he’d love Thor to finish him like this, _Jesus_ , the thought of fucking him… “Yeah. Yes. But not yet,” he decides as he’s saying it. “Take your pants off.”

Thor licks his lips. “Yeah?” he asks, then licks precome off the head of Peter’s cock.

“ _Ah_ , yeah,” Peter says, nodding, sighing, running a hand through Thor’s hair. “Yeah, take them off and bring your ass up here for me. I wanna eat you out.” Thor bites his bottom lip, and Peter hopes he isn’t being too pushy. “If—” he stammers, clumsy, “—as long as that’s okay wi—”

“It’s okay with me,” Thor spits out hastily, climbs back up Peter’s body, kisses him again. Then he pulls away and says, “It’s _definitely_ okay with me.”

“Okay,” Peter says between kisses, “okay,” kisses him again, “get them off, then,” and again, “and get that ass over here,” and again, “and keep on sucking me.”

Thor smiles against Peter’s mouth. “Good plan,” he says, and Peter grins. He has the _best_ plans.

Thor gets off of him and sits at the edge of bed to pull off his boots, then Peter rolls onto his side, props himself up on his elbow to watch as Thor rids himself of the rest of his clothes. He tries to force his drunk mind to take a moment, soak in the sight of this naked _god_ in front of him, but his drunk mind is seriously focused on getting his hands on that naked god’s body again. He at least takes note of Thor’s cock, uncut, hanging heavy between his legs. “Jesus,” Peter mutters. “Jesus, c’mere.”

Thor bends down to kiss Peter before he pushes him onto his back again, climbs up on the bed, straddles Peter’s chest facing away from him. Peter stares in awe at Thor’s ass as Thor leans down, braces himself on one elbow, takes Peter’s cock in his hand, and then into his mouth. It feels amazing, but it’s not enough to break his focus. Because Thor’s ass is just inches from his face, and he can do what he wants with it.

And what he wants is to grab Thor’s ass with both hands and spread it wide, so that’s exactly what he does. Thor hums around Peter’s cock, rhythm stuttering a little, and Peter takes another few moments to just _stare_ at Thor’s pink hole before he licks flat over it. Thor hums some more, and Peter likes this, likes hearing Thor make sounds like that, likes _feeling_ Thor make sounds like that. And yeah, he’d like to tease Thor into it. But maybe some other time, especially with the way Thor’s swallowing him down so hungrily.

Peter gives Thor another broad lick before he buries his face in Thor’s ass, sealing his lips around Thor’s hole and swirling his tongue around the rim, humming and groaning and lapping at it sloppily. It’s getting him more and more worked up by the moment, to do this to Thor, and he pulls back to take a breath, gasps out, “Fuck, you’re hot, baby.” He doesn’t quite realize what he said until Thor makes an _obscene_ noise around his cock, back arching. “ _Mm_ ,” Peter hums. “You like me callin’ you that?”

Thor takes his mouth off, tries to look back at Peter. “I do,” he says.

Peter grins, digs his fingernails into Thor’s cheeks, spreading him wider, and pushes the blunt tip of his tongue against Thor’s hole until that tight ring of muscle relaxes enough to let him inside. Thor puts his forehead to Peter’s hip, breathing hard. “ _Fuck_ ,” he swears, and holy shit, Peter’s never heard that word come out of his mouth before and it’s amazing and _filthy_ , and he wants to get him to say it a thousand more times.

Peter growls and grips Thor’s hips _hard_ , pulls them back as he buries his tongue inside Thor as far as it’ll go. Thor’s head is still heavy on Peter’s hip, but he kisses, hot and breathy, up the side of Peter’s cock, making mewling little sounds as Peter pushes his tongue in and out of him.

“Quill,” Thor whines before apparently finding the strength to lift his head again and wrap his mouth around Peter, and Peter groans at the combined feelings of his cock sliding into Thor’s warm mouth, and his tongue pushing into the heat of Thor’s ass. Not to mention the appreciative way Thor is moaning around Peter’s cock. Peter sucks at the rim of Thor’s hole, slurping at him, pleased beyond reason at his current state with one exception: he wishes he could talk to Thor. He wants to tell him that he likes his taste, tell him how sweet his mouth feels.

He _has_ to. Peter’s never been good at shutting up. He pulls back away from Thor’s ass with an obscene sucking sound. “Oh, your mouth feels good,” he says, and leans forward to lick over Thor’s hole a couple more times.

Thor lifts his head, pants, strokes Peter with his hand as he says, “Yours is amazing.”

“Can I put my fingers in you?” Peter asks, licks Thor again.

Thor’s back arches and he presses his ass back against Peter’s face. “Yes,” he moans. “ _Please_.” Damn. Peter might like hearing _please_ in Thor’s mouth more than _fuck_. “There’s lube in the drawer,” Thor says, craning his neck and nodding toward his bedside table. Then he turns and licks long stripes up the side of Peter’s cock, swirls his tongue around the head, swallows him down.

Peter does his best to keep his hips flat on the bed as he reaches out toward Thor’s bedside table. As his torso twists, Thor’s cock leaks against his chest and Thor shudders and Peter suddenly feels in a great big hurry to get inside him. He manages to get the drawer open, gropes inside for something that feels like a bottle, thanks the stars above (around?) when he gets a look at it and it is, in fact, lube.

He uncaps it and squirts lube gracelessly over his fingers, making sure one is coated before he settles back and pushes it into Thor, tries to commit the sight to memory as Thor’s hole swallows it up, still just inches away from his face.

“God, you’re so warm,” Peter says, because he is. Warm, and _soft_ , and slick around Peter’s finger.

Thor presses his tongue just under the head of Peter’s cock and Peter’s hips buck up a little. Thor groans, and he mutters, “Another one,” before he swallows Peter down again.

“Fuck,” Peter says, then, “okay, yeah.” He makes sure the next finger’s lubed enough and then slides it in alongside the first. “How’s that, baby?”

Thor moans around his cock, hums out, “Mm-hm,” as best he can, and Peter gives Thor a minute to adjust before he pushes his fingers in and out of him.

“Man, this is a view,” Peter says, and it is, to see Thor on top of him like this, to watch his fingers disappearing inside him. “You’re just _beautiful_ ,” he goes on, and Thor hums some more, pushing down until Peter’s cock is buried in his throat, and _Jesus_ , if he weren’t so drunk, he’d probably have come by now. “You tell me when you’re ready,” Peter coos, buries his fingers in Thor, twists his wrist. “Tell me whenever you’re ready and I’ll get inside you.”

Thor pushes up, lets Peter’s cock fall out of his mouth, gasps out, “You’re already _pretty_ inside me.”

“We can just keep doing this,” Peter says, “if you want. I don’t mind.” He really doesn’t. He’s definitely enjoying himself.

Thor considers, presses a messy kiss to the tip of Peter’s cock. “This _is_ good,” he agrees. “But no, I want to sit on you, and ride you, and look at you, and kiss you.”

 _Fuck_. It hadn’t occurred to Peter that Thor would want to ride him. He’d imagined putting Thor on his back, or his knees, and pushing into him, filling him up. But now he imagines being at Thor’s mercy, Thor filling _himself_ with Peter’s cock. And he wants it. “Yeah,” he agrees, “yeah, whatever you want,” like he’s being so benevolent, like he could settle for anything else after hearing that.

“I want _you_ ,” Thor says. And if that isn’t the best thing Peter’s heard all day. He thinks about the way Thor looked fighting today, wiping out ten foes at a time, thunder coursing through his body. To think… _That_ person—no, that _god_ —wants _him_. And Peter wants him too. He wants him so badly. He reaches around Thor’s hips and gropes for his cock, finds it, gives it a few tugs. “ _Oh_ ,” Thor whines, kisses down the length of Peter’s cock. “Oh, Peter.”

That’s a first. Thor’s ever only called him _Quill_. Most people only call him Quill. But for Thor to call him Peter is something new and intimate and heart-melting and Peter wants to kiss him. So he pulls his fingers out of Thor and says, “Come here. Come up here,” as he wipes his hand on Thor’s comforter.

Thor arches his back, pushes himself up to his knees and climbs off of Peter, only to turn around and climb right back on top of him. He wastes no time pressing his mouth to Peter’s, and the kiss is soft and it’s sweet and so at odds with the urgent motion of Thor’s hips, grinding his cock against Peter’s hip. “I want you,” he says again, moving his head to the side, speaking against Peter’s jaw. “God, I wanted you today, watching you fly us in there. Watching you fight.” He ruts against Peter again. “Never saw you fight before.”

Peter nods, runs his hands up over Thor’s back. “I’m nothing,” he says, even though he doesn’t really mean to. “It’s nothing compared to you. You were incredible, you’re so _strong_ , it’s just unbelievable. I knew, but, god, I didn’t _know_.”

“You’re so quick,” Thor says. “Quick thinking. Quick moving. Quick talking.” He kisses Peter again, then pushes upright, and starts edging back. “You ready?” Peter nods, mouth open, not so quick with his mouth just now, not with this new view of Thor before him. Thor, straddling his waist, huge cock red and bouncing and _drooling_. Thor lifts his hips up, edges back some more, grabs the bottle of lube Peter left uncapped on the bedspread. He squirts a liberal amount on his hand and slicks up Peter’s cock down beneath him.

“Fuck,” Peter spits out, loud, getting too loud. “ _Fuck_ , baby, come on,” he goes on, then bites at his bottom lip, not wanting to be too pushy. He wants it, but he wants Thor to take the time he needs. Wants him to enjoy it.

Thor nods, drops the bottle, and grips Peter’s cock, shifting his hips until it’s lined up with his hole before slowly, _slowly_ , sinking down. And Peter can just hardly believe any of it, wouldn’t have thought before tonight he’d ever get the chance to touch Thor, to kiss him, much less bury his cock inside him. “ _Oh,_ ” Thor sighs, brows knit and eyes shut as he pushes down a little more, takes Peter inside just a bit at a time.

“You okay?” Peter asks, hands light on Thor’s hips, fingertips gripping gently, encouragingly.

Thor nods. “It’s good, it’s good,” he chants softly.

“Good,” Peter says, “take your time, baby.”

Thor’s eyes snap open and his expression softens into something almost pained. He’s running one hand over his own chest and the other across Peter’s belly, sliding it over to his waist, just above his hip, getting a good grip on it with strong fingers.

“What?” Peter asks, when Thor just keeps staring at him with that look in his eyes.

“You’re… You’re just—” he sucks in a sharp breath as he finally seats himself, “—you’re wonderful,” he says, blushing a little. Or maybe he’s just flushed from taking all of Peter’s cock inside him like that.

Peter tightens his grip on Thor’s hips, just a little. “I’m lucky, is what I am,” he says. He reaches out and wraps a hand around Thor’s cock. “This okay?” Peter asks, and Thor nods, so Peter starts stroking him, pulling his foreskin down and exposing the head of his cock. It’s mesmerizing. At least it is until Thor starts rocking his hips. Then he’s lucky to be able to concentrate on jerking Thor off at all.

“Yeah,” Thor says, leans forward, braces himself with his hands on either side of Peter’s head against the pillow. “Yeah, keep going.” Peter does. As if he had to be told. “Little faster,” Thor says.

Peter nods, obeys. “Whatever you want.”

Thor’s head rolls back. “How’s it feel?” he asks, starting to rise and fall a little on Peter’s cock.

Peter nearly laughs. Because, _seriously_? In this moment, he can’t think of a single thing that’s ever felt remotely better. “Amazing,” he says, “fucking amazing.”

“Good,” Thor says, chants it in time with the fall of his hips. “ _Good, good, good_.”

Peter can hardly think. Thor’s looser now, but still so _tight_ around him, so hot and soft on the inside, squeezing and pulling all around Peter’s cock. Peter watches Thor’s massive thighs flexing as he pushes up and down, runs his hands up Thor’s strong, muscled forearms, over his biceps, knits his fingers together behind Thor’s neck and pulls him down, closer. “Kiss me,” he begs, voice broken and desperate. Thor bends at the elbows, muscles flexing as he presses down, molds his lips to Peter’s with half-focus, keening as he fucks himself on Peter’s cock.

He presses his hips down against Peter’s, seating himself again, rocking his hips, swiveling them around. Peter wouldn’t have thought Thor could move that way. It’s beautiful. And it’s bringing Peter close, really close. His hips are bucking up, and Peter can’t even tell if he’s doing it on purpose, just knows he can’t stop, just knows he wants to hit something deeper, deeper, _deeper_ inside him. “Fuck,” Thor gasps against Peter’s mouth, moves his head to the side and lets it fall against the pillow. “ _Fuck_ , Peter,” he whines against Peter’s ear. “Faster,” he says, “faster, I’m gonna come.”

Peter doesn’t know whether Thor means his hand or his hips, so he picks up the pace with both. He can hold out. He can hold out until Thor comes. “Come on, baby,” he says. “Come for me.”

Thor pushes himself back up, braces himself with one hand beside Peter’s head, uses the other to swat Peter away from his cock. “I’m gonna come,” he says again, urgently, wraps his own hand around his cock and jerks himself quickly, _much_ more quickly than Peter’d been doing. He lifts his hips up and stills them, begs, “Can you fuck me?”

“Yeah,” Peter spits out, and grabs Thor’s hips again, plants his feet flat on the bed and drills up into him, giving him what he asked for, but chasing his own orgasm too. The sound Thor makes then, the _growl_ that rumbles low in his throat, the relieved and somewhat surprised look on his face... Well, Peter’s pretty sure he’ll remember it until the day he dies. And then Thor’s coming messily all between them, some landing on himself, some landing hot on Peter’s chest. Some on the bedspread. Peter can’t fucking hold on any longer. “Can I keep going?” he asks, frantic. “Can I come in you?”

Thor nods, body starting to go a little slack, though he manages to hold himself up as he rides out his orgasm, cock spitting out the rest of his come feebly. “Yes,” he tells him, quieter now. “Go ahead,” he says.

Peter lets himself go, drills fast and hard, god, he hopes it’s not too hard, up into Thor. Thor’s not complaining, just breathing hard, letting his head droop forward, back bent, falling to his elbow now. “Baby,” he pants out, “oh _baby_ , you were so good, you’re so good.” He feels like he doesn’t even know what he’s saying until he’s saying it. His mouth is running more quickly than his brain can keep up with it. “Come on, come on, kiss me, _fuck_ I’m gonna come, kiss me.” Thor does, lazily, just _beautifully_ , and Peter talks right into his mouth. “I’m coming,” he says, hips jerking gracelessly, faltering, burying deep into Thor as he empties inside him.

When he finally drops his hips, Thor’s come down with them, and Thor lets the rest of his weight down as well, and it’s _a lot_ , but Peter just wraps his arms around Thor’s torso and holds him there. He’ll let him lie there as long as he wants.

Thor presses his lips to Peter’s ear, his jaw, his neck, thick and sleepy. “I have to get up,” he says, soft, warning.

Peter nods, pants. “Okay,” he says, even though it sounds terrible, the idea of not being inside him anymore.

Thor kisses him on the neck again as he lifts his hips up, sliding off Peter’s cock. “I should clean up,” he says, yawning, fingers in Peter’s hair, “before I fall asleep.”

Peter nods some more, yawning himself, and wondering whether he’s supposed to stay or go now. He doesn’t want to go.

“You can come with me,” Thor says, rubbing a thumb against Peter’s jaw, “if you want.”

Peter does want.

He nods, follows Thor to the bathroom, stumbling a little along the way. Once they get under the showerhead, the hot water feels good on his skin. Thor feels even better.

“Will you stay here tonight?” Thor asks, Peter’s face in his hands.

Peter nods. “If you want,” he says. And then, even at the risk of sounding a little needy, he asks, “You still gonna want me when you wake up?”

“Wanted you the last time I woke up,” Thor answers, not missing a beat. “Don’t see how the next time should be any different.”


End file.
